


From Texas to Japan

by Wolfsbride



Series: Boobs [2]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Breasts, F/M, Older Woman/Younger Man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-12
Updated: 2013-03-12
Packaged: 2017-12-05 02:31:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/717845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfsbride/pseuds/Wolfsbride
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bond thinks M's breasts are remarkable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From Texas to Japan

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Persiflage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/gifts).



M wakes to find Bond lying propped up on his side. His free hand is idly tracing a slow line down the curve of her breast, around her nipple, over the underside and back up again. She’s deliciously sore; too sore in fact for another go round but every time Bond circles her nipple, there’s a tingle and a tightening that makes her tempted to try. 

Bond, however, doesn’t look like he’s about to ravish her. In fact, he looks down right thoughtful. She studies him for a moment, waiting to see if he’ll do more than touch her breast. When he doesn’t, she speaks.

“James?”

“Hmm?” He sounds miles away.

“What on earth are you doing?”

“Your breasts are quite remarkable.” 

M blinks. Bond sounds much like a teenage girl in the midst of a swoon. It’s ridiculous. 

“Well, you would be one to judge, wouldn’t you?” She snaps, feeling quite peevish. Bond isn’t usually so crass as to bring up previous dalliances in her presence. 

His hand stops its movement and Bond looks up at her. “It was a compliment, M, not a comparison.” He actually looks hurt.

M sighs. “I’m sorry, James.” She covers his hand with hers. “That was rude. I suppose I worry this is just another game to you.”

Bond’s expression softens. “You know it’s not. Eventually you’ll believe it.”

Smiling, M lets her hand fall back to her side. 

Bond pinches M’s nipple, making her gasp. Then he resumes his slow stroking. The tip of his finger barely grazes her skin, sensitizing it. Each time he completes a circle, her nipple gets harder and harder. 

M thinks she might be up for another go after all but Bond doesn’t seem interested in anything other than her breast. She stares bemusedly at the rapt expression on his face. 

“James?”

“Hmm?”

M very nearly rolls her eyes at the repetition. “What _is_ it exactly that you find so remarkable? Given the number of examples you’ve had, one set is much like the other, isn’t it?”

Bond pulls his gaze away to shoot her a startled look. Then he ducks his head. “I’d rather not say.”

M is fascinated. At the moment, she can see that Bond’s ears are turning pink. She’s determined to find out the cause.

“James? I _order_ you to tell me.”

After a moment, Bond mutters. “Fine. But you have to promise not to fire me.”

That just intrigues her more. “Alright, I promise.”

Raising his head, Bond looks her in the eye. “My first impression of you was that you had a great pair of knockers. It wasn’t what I expected. You were so tiny… petite, petite.” Bond amends under M’s glare. 

“You were so petite. I figured you'd be flat chested. I remember you were standing in your office, back to me when I entered. Then you turned around and… Boobs.” 

Bond shrugs. “I’ve been captivated ever since.”

M stares at him. She’s not sure if she should be outraged by the objectification or flattered. Looking down at her chest, she decides to go with flattered. “Hm. Yes, they are rather grand.”

Bond leans down and gives her nipple a very chaste kiss. “Very grand, indeed.” Then he resumes his slow caressing.

As she lies there with the slow build of arousal washing over her in tiny waves, M finds it a bit surreal. She realizes she’s been just as guilty as everyone else about thinking that Bond is some kind of sex machine. Never in a million years would she have considered that he’d be happy to lie here and just touch her breasts. She wonders how many times he’s shunted aside his own desires because she assumed all he wanted was a quick fuck.

“You know.” She says slowly. “There have been one or two missions where I’ve had to put my breasts to work.” Her lips curve when he stops to look at her again. 

“Yes. Overseas mission in conjunction with the CIA. I spent six weeks working as stripper in Texas.”

Bond gives her a look like he’s not sure if she’s telling the truth or teasing him. 

“It’s true! My stage name was Tits McGee. I wore the most preposterous costume. Started out as a cowgirl – boots, hat, stupid elaborately embroidered shirt and skirt and then stripped down to a G-string and tassels. Even had a lasso as I recall.” 

M notices that Bond is staring avidly at her chest. “James?”

“Don’t suppose you kept the tassels.” He sounds wistful. 

Laughing, M cups the back of his head. “No, but if it pleases you I’m sure we can find something around. Discreetly of course.”

“It would definitely please me.” Bond dips his head and lavishes his attention on both her breasts until M can do nothing but claw at his skull and gasp his name.

When he draws back, Bond licks his lips. 

The motion reminds M of something else and she decides that if this is the reaction he’s going to have, she’ll definitely have to share more stories with him. She clears her throat and tries to bring her breathing under control.

“And then there was the mission in Japan where I had to spend several hours every evening letting businessmen eat off my breasts.”

Bond eyes her bosom once more. M is slightly horrified to realize that she’s finding it adorable that his ears are flushing again. 

“James?”

He doesn’t blink. He just cups her breasts in both hands and pushes them together to create a little valley. “I may be imagining drinking my martini off your chest.” He confesses, his voice rough.

For some reason, instead of the expected surge of want, M feels, instead, an overwhelming tenderness. She reaches up and pulls him down towards her. “If you’re a very good boy, dear, I may just let you.”

Bond sighs and snuggles against her breasts. “You make a great pillow.”

M smacks the back of his head. “Don’t be a prat.”

M is just falling into a doze, when Bond says sleepily. “Just remember that it’s not just your breasts I love.”

“Of course, James." She's touched by his concern. "I'll try to keep it in mind. Now go to sleep.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies to all those expecting porn. Sadly, Bond and M just wanted to chat about her boobs. I have no idea.


End file.
